Antiquity forgotten
by Anduwen
Summary: A scientist working with an undersea exploration team makes a surprise discovery. Reviews welcome, constructive criticism encouraged to an alarming degree.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own the scientists and most of the world. I do not own any of the things created by JRR Tolkien. Rated PG-13 for violence.  
  
Author's notes: First of all, let me make it clear that this isn't particularly serious. It isn't supposed to be a detailed and meaningful narrative about what people would to if this happened to them. The metaphor I've used when describing it to other people is it's like Indiana Jones. The scientists won't act like scientists, and there will probably be lots of plot devices that make little sense and don't exist in the real world. So just bear with me on this. ;)  
  
"Dr. Thomas, are you sure this will be safe?" Peter asked, flipping a technical looking switch. From across the small capsule, Jenna Thomas sighed.  
  
"Yes. My design team was adamant about that, and it's been vigorously tested. It's never been so far down before, but the program Fred wrote was for testing it in scenarios like this. From what I gathered, the worst that will happen will be your ears hurting from the pressure." She squinted across at her researcher suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"  
  
Peter shrugged. "I'm just worried. No one has ever done anything like this before."  
  
"That's exactly why it's going to work. We'll be famous, Pete." She grinned and pressed a quick succession of buttons. The capsule gave a jerk and the clear sky that had been seen from the round windows receded, dark water replacing it as the Odyssey 5 plunged down into the ocean at a speed of hundreds of miles per hour. Jenna swiveled her chair around and flipped a switch, turning on a powerful light outside the capsule. A few twists of a knob adjusted it to a more manageable level.  
  
Peter grabbed a small wheel and turned it sharply, sending the Odyssey careening towards the black crevice the pod had been aiming for. It shot through the narrow entrance and he stabilized the engine, forcing it into a steep descent. Nervously he reached over to the light's controls, rotating it in slow circles around the walls. The capsule continued to descend rapidly but Jenna punched a button, slowing it into a gradual fall.  
  
"Well, we did it." Jenna said, her voice sounding muted in the hazy darkness. Peter nodded and turned to one of the windows. Murky water pressed around them, the only sight besides the faintly illuminated fissure's wall. Suddenly, he stiffened and stared.  
  
"Jenna..."  
  
The other doctor turned around, startled. Peter never used her first name. Warily, she approached the window. Peter stared at her, shock plain across his square face. "Jenna... what is that?"  
  
() () ()  
  
Unimaginable miles off, a man was lying in a shallow cave. His hands were folded across his chest like the sarcophagus of some Egyptian Pharaoh, and a curtain of flaming red hair framed his pale face. Abruptly, as if at some signal, his eyes flew open. A shadow seemed to pass over him and he turned onto his side, coughing weakly.  
  
The coughing passed and he sat up stiffly, looking around at the shadowy cliff wall. His deep-set grey eyes gradually registered his surroundings and he rose to his knees, a wail of despair and anguish tearing from his lips. Distantly, the harsh cry of a seagull floated back in answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Jenna approached the window and peered out into the water. Slowly, she reached for her headphones and contacted the ship above them. "Dr. Ferguson, there's something down here..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a quick burst of static and a man's voice came through.  
  
"What is it?" He asked. Jenna picked up a camera and handed it to Peter.  
  
"It's... glowing, or something. It's too bright to see its shape. I'll contact you if we figure out what it is."  
  
William Ferguson laughed harshly. "Thomas, are you sure it isn't your lamp?" he said. She bit her tongue to hold back an imaginative combination of four letter words and made a mental note to hit him the next time she saw him.  
  
"I only did that once!" she spat. There was a loud click from the camera, and she motioned to Peter to be quiet. "Sorry, what did you say?"  
  
His voice drifted back, exasperated. "I said, get as many pictures as you can without getting too close. Sure it's not a fish?"  
  
"If it is, I've never seen one like it before. It isn't moving, either... I swear it's a rock or something. Want me to bring the Odyssey back up so you can take a look at it?"  
  
There was another burst of static. "Affirmative."  
  
Peter sat back down and directed the pod back towards the entrance. They shot forward and several minutes later were hauled onto the deck of a large ship. Peter handed the digital camera to a large man wearing khaki shorts, who took it and squinted at it analytically. "All I can see is a big glowing blob. Sure the camera isn't acting up?" he asked. Jenna nodded.  
  
"You're looking at what we saw. It's too bright to discern anything." She replied. William cycled through the pictures and nodded, pressing the sequence of buttons to open the Odyssey's portal. He stepped in, followed by Peter.  
  
"Take me down to where you saw it." The researcher nodded and the pod was lowered into the water again, rocketing off towards the ocean floor. Jenna picked up the camera and headed to the room where they kept files, intending to print out the pictures such as they were. Staring down at the small display screen on the camera, she attached it to the computer and went through the necessary procedure. The printer began churning out glossy papers and she collected them into a pile.  
  
The very last one shot out and she scooped it up... and stared at it. There, outlined between the dark sand and glowing muddy water around it, was the clear image of a many-faceted jewel.  
  
Jenna snatched the paper from the pile frantically and sprinted out, arriving breathless at the terminal. She reached for the microphone and turned it on.  
  
"Ferguson! One of the pictures..." she took a gulp of air and started again, speaking slowly and deliberately. "One of the pictures turned out well. You can see what it is." Static flooded the small room for a second then died.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's some kind of gem. It's... it's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"A gem... Interesting. What do you think we should do, Thomas?" he asked. Jenna squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
"I don't know. Leave it there for now. Get more researchers. Call some jewel expert. Take it from its watery grave and discover clues that unlock the secret of an ancient civilization previously unguessed at. How am I to know? I'm a scientist, not an oracle." She sat down heavily and fiddled with the microphone volume then turned it back to normal with a start when Ferguson's voice came back several times too loud.  
  
"Okay, we'll leave it there. I'll get Peter to look for someone who might know something about it. In the mean time, just keep it quiet."  
  
Jenna nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Yessir," she said, picking up the paper again. "What should I do with the photo?"  
  
"Just hold on to it for now. I'll look at it when I come back up." She switched the microphone off and stuffed the photo in a drawer, heading off in search of lunch.  
  
Author's notes: Nope, not Maedhros. Fell into a fiery chasm, remember? There's only one son of Fëanor who's alive and I happen to be in love with him, so of course he's going to make an appearance! ;) Sigh I don't even know if it's canonical to give him red hair, but ever since I read The Sil I've always pictured him that way. I promise, that will be the only inaccuracy. :( I would remove it as well but... well, call it sentimental value.  
  
OrliBloomedMe, thanks so much. I've written some pretty horrible Mary Sues myself, (most of them were about my stupid DnD character 'Rillandura Avheri', beautiful orphaned wood elf with a tragic past. How Sueish can you get? .) so I won't hold it against you. :D It's just a weakness of mine to nitpick every LoTR fanfic I encounter, including my own... 


	3. Chapter 3

William Ferguson drew in his breath with a sharp hiss. Jenna had been acting like the light was a big deal and despite her naiveté she was a good scientist, so he played along. But if he had known what had been hidden there, he would have called in every researcher, expert and explorer he could get until it was found and identified.  
  
There, nestled among the roughened, jagged walls of the crevice, lay pure light. Piercing beams of radiance flowed out through the freezing water like a small sun, shattering into a million different multihued rays as they met floating debris and illuminating the coarse iron walls of the Odyssey with a steady glow. Barely visible through the radiant folds was the outline of a single, flawless jewel.  
  
The scientist sat down heavily on one of the uncomfortable swivel chairs, staring at the round window. He turned it with a loud squeak and picked up the headphones, contacting the ship. "We're going to be famous, Thomas," he said into it, tearing his gaze away from the spectacle. "You asked what we were going to do... We're going to bring it up, take pictures, do interviews, get our pictures on Time magazine and remain rich and famous for the rest of our lives."  
  
Jenna's voice crackled harshly with static as she replied. "Aren't 'we' forgetting something, doctor? I was the one who found it!" she said, a note of panic in her voice. "It's my discovery! All you did was demand that we take you to see it!"  
  
Truthfully, the memory of the light had been growing on her since she had left the pod. She had tried to get it out but it had remained in her head, and why not? It was her discovery. She found it, she had rights to it. Ferguson was jealous... he would try and take the credit. Jenna shook her head in annoyance. It was just like him! Why did she ever tell him about it?  
  
"If you want to get technical with me, it was Peter who found..."  
  
She cut off his voice with a bark of exasperation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten... and again. It was no use. "PETER IS A ING MORON!" she screeched into the tiny microphone, causing Ferguson to pull the earphones off to keep his hearing. "I FOUND IT! IT'S MINE!"  
  
Ferguson blinked in alarm. She was wrong, of course. He had funded the project, he had helped build the Odyssey 5, if it wasn't for him they would never have found it. Scowling unhappily, he searched the control panel for something that could pick up the jewel.  
  
"Sir, what are you doing?"  
  
Peter's voice startled him and he jumped. "I'm going to get it, that's what I'm going to do!" he exclaimed, glaring at the researcher.  
  
"I don't think..." he began, but Ferguson cut him off.  
  
"That's the problem! You never do! You have no ambition, no aspiration to anything! You're only here because you do what we tell you to! And right now, I'm telling you to GET THE OUT OF MY WAY!"  
  
Peter reeled back as if he had been punched, his face falling into an expression like a kicked puppy. Ferguson glared at him in exasperation for a second then turned away, deliberately ignoring him as he set the Odyssey on a course back to the ship. 


	4. Chapter 4

The red haired man stood up slowly, brushing stray strands of hair out of his eyes. There was pale sunlight filtering through the entrance of the cave, and his eyes were beginning to water from the light. He couldn't remember how long they had been closed... his memory seemed strangely vague and undefined. The only thing it seemed to register was that something terrible had happened. Something important. Trying to ignore the pounding in the back of his head, he stared down at his hands.  
  
Burns. The skin that had once been delicate and fair was mottled with white scars, all along his palm with raised white ledges along the first knuckle of each finger... and they hurt. His mind barely seemed to register the pain and he watched with childlike confusion as he curled each of the slender fingers, finally clenching them into a tight fist. He couldn't directly remember how he had gotten the scars but he could feel it in the back of his mind, just beyond perception.  
  
He took a few steps forward and suddenly... pain... broke through the darkness in his mind. His slender hands clenched spasmodically as white fire shot through them and up his arms. The memory that had been tauntingly close before seemed to recede as the pain broke over him and his knees buckled, sending him to the ground, As if from a long way off he noticed that his fingernails had broken the scarred skin of his hand, sending a trickle of blood down his arm as three crimson drops fell from the edge of his hand. They landed on the sand with a whisper and he turned his head, staring at the three splotches on the rocky sand.  
  
Somehow it seemed... familiar. He felt as though this had been important to him before, but all he could remember was darkness; he had been falling through endless darkness for longer than he could remember, searching beyond hope for a way out. He couldn't begin to guess how long it had been since he had seen the light, and even if he could... time seemed unreal, as if he were standing outside of it. Abstractly he wondered why that was, then squinted his eyes as he peered down at the sand. It was almost like...  
  
Quietly, he began to speak. His voice was halting and soft with disuse, but it seemed that at one time it had been beautiful. He didn't know what he was saying, or what language... what was a language? But it seemed familiar. Slowly it seemed to take on melody and he hugged his arms across his chest, singing softly to the silver-tinged waves of the sea.  
  
The pain of his hand subsided and his voice grew in surety, finally echoing around the deserted beach with a music more beautiful than any heard since the world was young. But his voice faltered and he spoke the next word softly... 'Silmaril'. Suddenly the darkness in his mind receded and his memory came flowing back, the language he had been speaking resolving itself into words. But his song paused, and then failed all together and he knew, as for the first time, who he was.  
  
Maglor. Macalaurë. Son of Fëanor and the last elf to walk in Arda... awoken from eternal darkness because he had another chance to fulfill the oath. Another chance for peace. His gaze was drawn again to the three crimson flecks on the sand and he stood resolutely, vowing that he would reclaim the jewel... and this time, he would prove that he was worthy.  
  
A/N: Sigh This one isn't so great and I'm sorry. I had to rewrite it about three different times and _still _don't think I got it right – seems a little cliché to me :( Also, this is all I've written so far, so upcoming updates might take a bit longer. 


	5. Chapter 5

Maglor looked around at the white sand and realized with a start that he had a strange dilemma. While he knew the Silmaril had been found, he had no idea where, by whom, or how to even begin looking for it. The world had to be different; he could hear a strange roaring noise in his ears apart from the sea, and the air... it felt so... foul. He could barely breathe, and when he tried to it felt so contaminated that he wondered if he even wanted to. He wondered how long it had been; 2, 3 ages? More? Slowly looking down, he noticed an object in the sand near his feet.

He stooped down and picked it up, peering at it intensely. It was a brightly colored cylinder, slightly tapered at both ends, with markings along the middle that he couldn't read. The language they were written in seemed ungraceful compared to his father's script, and completely different from anything he had ever seen. He squinted at it for a moment longer and then dropped it, standing and folding his arms slowly. It was obvious that he would have to start somewhere, and maybe...

He sighed. If he walked along the beach in one direction for long enough, he was bound to hit something...

()()()

"And that's the moon; the flower of Telperion, set forever in the vessel that became the moon, guided across the sky by the Maia Tilion. He..." Patricia Black paused and glanced over at her friend's glazed expression. "You aren't listening to a word I say, are you?" she asked, scowling.

Karri sighed and returned Trisha's glare. "No, I'm not. Why won't you talk about anything but Lord of the Rings? Just because I don't know about Teleprion- "

"You mean Telperion," interjected Trisha. Karri sighed.

"Whatever, doesn't mean that you have to 'fix' me or anything! Why can't we have a normal conversation about NONFICTIONAL boys or school or the latest movie or something?!" she demanded angrily. Trisha stepped back a pace, wounded.

"I... I'm sorry! It's just... I'm sorry, alright? I just want to share what I think is a beautiful mythology!"

"Right."

"Okay, so maybe I just want to show off." She sighed. "You want to talk about boys? Okay, start talking. I swear by the preciou... by the river Styx I won't bring up Tolkien once."

Karri sighed, but then taking it as a serious invitation began to talk. The topic drifted around a bit, usually lingering around their math teacher (who Karri hated) and how hot Orlando Bloom was, but Trisha's heart just wasn't in it. Who could care about Orlando Bloom when you could talk about Legolas? Or Fëanor? But she had given her word not to talk about Lord of the Rings, and... "I swear, Orlando is the hottest guy EVER. I'm actually writing a story about Legolas, my character is transported into Middle-earth and she falls in love with him! I might post it somewhere online..."

Screw this. She was changing the topic as soon as she could.

She stared around the beach and noticed another figure walking vaguely in her direction, which struck her as odd. This part of the beach was usually deserted; it was constantly windy, far too hot in the summer, speckled with rocks the size of footballs and generally ignored in favor of the tourist beach about a mile along the coast. But Trisha liked it; it reminded her of Turgon and Finrod, and she could have sworn that once she heard trumpets blowing faintly over the roar of the ocean.

Trisha stopped in mid step, her mouth falling open and one foot barely touching the ground. The figure was closer now; by the miracle of thick glasses, she was able to see... him...

He was beyond description.

He was tall; easily over 6', broad shouldered and strong while remaining slender and lithe like a cat. In fact, he reminded her quite a bit of a cat; something the controlled grace of his movement and the way he looked at the two with lazy curiosity struck her as incredibly feline.

But that wasn't where it ended. His skin was pale to the point of translucency, with a metaphorical sort of light in his eyes more potent than the brilliance of the summer sun overhead; however, his eyes were where that light began and ended. It seemed to her that underneath his pale skin, in place of muscle and bone, there was darkness; shadow seemed to originate inside him and fill every pore, surrounding the light and nearly smothering it. But in despite of the contradiction, his face was exquisite; it was flawless, and beautiful beyond anything she had ever seen, completely beyond her powers of description.

Karri's rant about her Algebra class ended with a shrill squeal showing that she had noticed the man also. His look of curiosity instantly turned to distrust and he stepped back, drawing a long knife out of his boot. Trisha jumped back in alarm.

"Karri! He's got a knife!!" she exclaimed under her breath, her voice rising in panic. Karri stepped backwards to join her.

"Thanks for stating the obvious!" she replied, both of them backing away. "I've got my cell phone! Can you distract him or something while I call the police?"

Trisha drew her breath in with a hiss. "I'll try. I swear, he looks actually frightened of something... Are you sure it's a good idea? Couldn't you just call your mom or somethi..."

He chose that opportune moment to speak, asking what was obviously a question and gesturing to the beach with his right hand while still holding the knife in his left. Trisha noticed that there was blood on his palm, with thin red lines of it running down into his sleeve; above that near the center of his palm the skin was white and glossy with scars. And his voice... Trisha's mouth opened even wider. He wasn't speaking English, that was for sure, but whatever he was saying... it was beautiful...

She pinched herself vigorously then yelped. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying..." she began, and then stopped. It was obvious that _he_ didn't know what _she_ was saying, either. A couple of feet to her right, Karri had found her phone and was dialing her mother's phone number as fast as she could. Trisha winced and once more attempted communication. "PUT THE KNIFE DOWN!!! Hablas Español? Parlez-vous français? Put... knife... down!"

In truth, even had he known Spanish or French it wouldn't have availed him much; Trisha knew so little of either of those that he might as well have been speaking Greek.

Karri pressed the phone to her ear with increased panic as it continued to ring while Trisha tried to communicate with him using hand gestures. After the first couple of attempts he finally narrowed his eyes and placed it back in his boot; Trisha sighed with relief and Karri removed the phone from her ear and turned it off. "It's not working! Mom's not home!" she whispered frantically. "Just great. I'm trapped on a beach with a homicidal maniac and no help in sight... How come we had to go to the icky rocky windy part of the beach?"

"Because I like it better," stated Trisha matter-of-factly. "Look, panicking isn't going to help. Maybe screaming. Really loud screaming. That wakes up the dead. Or at least the houseless spirits that refuse to go to Mandos. But they wouldn't be asleep so never mind but maybe it could wake up the..."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Mandoth?" he asked.

Trisha's mouth dropped open and she mouthed several words, fish-like, before finally speaking. "Yeah, Mandos. What about it?"

"What's Mandos?" Karri asked, wincing as Trisha glared at her.

"Mandos is the Eldarin equivalent of heaven or hell or something."

"Look, Trisha, as great as it is that you know what things like 'Eldarin' mean, would you just speak English? And aren't we forgetting that there's a maniac with a knife 10 feet away?" She squeaked the last part, throwing a worried glance at said maniac.

The maniac stared at them. "Ma quetelyë i Eldalambë?" he asked cautiously.

Trisha's mouth dropped open even farther. "Lá..." she muttered, then turned to Karri. "What did he just say?!" she said.

"He said something like maa ketelyay ee eldalambay only prettier," she replied.

"Pinch me."

"What?"

"Just do it." Trisha stated, wincing when Karri complied happily. "Okay, rules that possibility out. Maybe..."

"Look, Trisha, didn't your mother ever teach you to not talk to HOMICIDAL MANIACS WITH KNIVES WHO DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH?!!!" Karri exclaimed. "Let's just run! Or yell really loudly!"

"Wait..." Trisha pointed to herself. "Patricia," she said.

After a long pause he copied the gesture. "Maglor."

Trisha jumped and stumbled back so fast she fell backwards onto the sand, then suddenly began to laugh out loud. "Mae govannen, Maglor! Elen sila lúmenn' omentielvo!"

What a wacky dream she was having...

---------------

I'm terribly sorry that this is taking so long... It's really a combination of being too lazy to write regularly, having very little inspiration and deciding that it's nearly impossible to write about what would REALLY happen, knowing as little as I do about Maglor's personality; I'm probably just going to end up improvising a lot in that respect. Sigh Wish me luck.


	6. Chapter 6

Maglor was confused. Several minutes after showing no knowledge of Quenya, Sindarin or Westron, one of the girls had answered his question and addressed him in what was undeniably Quenya, badly accented as it was. He couldn't understand their language but their emotions were clear; they were terrified of him, but the one who had introduced herself as Patricia seemed... curious. She sat up slowly on the sand and stared at him.

"Maglor?"

"Ná," he answered. She grinned and turned to her friend.

"Did you hear that? He said 'yes'! In Quenya! He speaks Quenya!" she exclaimed.

Her friend frowned. "Quenya? Maglor? Wasn't he some elf you told me about?"

Patricia's eyes widened in disbelief. "Some elf?! SOME ELF?!!?! Maglor wasn't just SOME elf! He was the greatest Minstrel in all of Arda! Son of Fëanor! Prince of the Noldor!" she shouted.

Maglor frowned. "Man tye ithte atarinya?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the human girl; she seemed to know something about his past... Maybe, just maybe, she knew about the Silmaril... where it had been found... anything. Anything would help.

She cowered back and averted her eyes. "I don't understand you... I'm sorry..." she whimpered. "Look, if you can come with me, I'll be able to print out a dictionary and talk to you!"

Her friend whispered something to her and she replied with an angry glance. "No! I'm not leaving him here. Maybe... maybe if we started walking, he'd follow us?"

"We WANT him following us?"

"Yes! We can't leave him here, can we? Look at him! He's starving!"

"Trisha, he's NOT an elf!"

Patricia placed her hands on her hips and glared daggers at the other girl. "Then what is he? Could you pretend to be **that**?!" she exclaimed, gesturing at Maglor. She was right... up close he was even more surreal. He looked translucent, supernatural; the light in his eyes was unbearably brilliant and very much _real_ to the point that she expected him to start literally glowing when the sun went down. And he was _beautiful_; the most flawless being that either of them had ever seen.

The shorter girl frowned, unconvinced. "Does he have pointy ears?"

"Let's find out." Patricia turned to Maglor, who had been standing there silently while they argued. She grimaced for a second then met his eyes. "...Maglor?" she asked, and then mimed pulling her hair up to expose her ear then pointing at him.

Maglor frowned at her. She wanted to see his ear? Did she want to know if he was an Elf or not? Perhaps he should show her... perhaps if she knew something it would be good for her to have validation. He mimicked her gesture, pulling his hair back to reveal a delicately pointed ear.

Patricia's mouth fell open, but her friend cocked her head and stared at the ear. "Is that fake?" she asked, reaching up and tugging at the tip.

He jerked back and let his hair drop. "Avá!" he hissed menacingly, causing the girl to cower back and stammer something he guessed was an apology. What had she done that for?

"...g-goheno... uhh... her," Patricia stammered, gesturing at her friend. "Say 'goheno nín'!" she whispered to her.

"Goheno nín!" her friend exclaimed, repeating it several times for good measure. Finally Maglor nodded.

"Ná," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest once more then uncrossing them to rub the tip of his ear. He knew his brothers wouldn't have been so forgiving, or so accommodating in the first place for that matter, but he had no choice. He had no idea how long it had been, or how much had changed, or how to even begin to speak their language. At this point, he had no choice but to trust them.

Patricia sighed with obvious relief. "Karri," she stated, pointing at the other girl.

Karri looked up at Maglor worriedly and mumbled a greeting. "So what do we do now?" she asked Patricia.

"We see if he'll come with us..." she replied, turning to look at the Elf. "...come?" she asked hesitantly, beckoning to him with one finger. To her immense relief, he followed.

"I hope you're not making a BIG mistake, Trisha," Karri murmured as they walked back up the beach.

------------------

Now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Winces I'm sorry. I'm getting there, though... Just a couple more installments and I'll be back to where I was before... I hope...


	7. Chapter 7

Jenna sighed and stared out the window of the bus sullenly. It had been a most eventful day, but now that she was away from the ship and her aggravating coworkers, she was beginning to feel almost scared. There was something that... well, didn't seem _right_ about the 'miraculous' discovery.

Yes, it was beautiful, but somehow it had managed to make the team drop everything in favor of finding out more about it. Yes, she was fond of pretty rocks and the like, especially in the form of jewelry, but she didn't understand why she felt so possessive about the gem. Finally, she had never put much stock into superstition or 'hunches' or the like, but something about it gave her a very, very bad feeling. She had decided it was the outline she had seen in the photograph – it was very obviously faceted, which meant someone had created it, and what's more it was far more... well, flawless, than any artifact she had ever seen. Not to mention the fact that it was glowing. If it weren't for the fact that it was, quite literally, 20,000 leagues under the sea, she would have guessed that it had been made by a contemporary machine and tossed into the ocean. Even as it was, that almost seemed like the most probable explanation. Things made by prehistoric civilizations didn't glow... God, maybe it was radioactive. Jenna winced and made a mental note to ask Ferguson about coating the Odyssey with lead.

The bus pulled in at her stop and she got out, instinctively starting to walk in the direction of her house. It was a particularly warm evening with hardly a cloud in the orange-tinged sky, and the air was heavy with humidity. Bugs of the small, winged, annoying variety fluttered constantly around her face and in little clouds on the dirty sidewalk, and the occasional lacewing or moth could be seen flitting around the lighted windows of various fast food restaurants and streetlights, and one the size of a small playing card was sitting tentatively on the brightly lit poster advertising The Return of the King at the local 'Movies 10' theater. Pigeons the size of bowling balls pecked at the garbage lining the gutters, occasionally joined by a seagull out for easy scavenging. The moon was almost full and shone cheerily overhead, and over in the west there was a single bright star, which was most likely Venus; it seemed particularly bright that evening, shining in a way that struck Jenna as almost mysterious.

Arriving at her apartment, she unlocked the door absentmindedly and strode in. She kicked off her shoes and socks next to the door and headed off to the kitchen in search of food, scrunching the thick beige carpet between her toes happily. The bright fluorescent light in the kitchen flickered on and she opened the fridge, selecting a cold piece of pizza and sticking it in the microwave. After about a minute it went off with a cheery 'ding!' and she went into the living room, plopping down on her couch and chewing thoughtfully.

She had forgotten to turn the T.V. off and it was currently blaring a commercial for some brand of shoes that cures all of life's woes or another. She watched it for a second until it returned to the actual show. It was an antique show, and they were currently occupied with a ring. It was made of silver; two snakes formed the main band, and the gem was a small emerald, set between the heads of the snakes. The snakes had intricately designed crowns made of tiny gold flowers with diamonds in the center, and they had tiny emeralds for eyes. One of the heads was pointed up and it seemed to be gnawing on the tail of the other, but despite this it was quite beautiful.

She murmured "Pretty" and switched the T.V. off, wondering vaguely if she could find anything that pretty in _her_ parent's attic.

She finished her pizza and tossed the crust in the trash, sticking the fired ceramic plate in the sink. There was a raspy meow from behind her and a furry head butted against her lower leg, rubbing affectionately. She turned and scooped up the small grey ball of fuzz into a quick hug. It yowled angrily and she set it down quickly. "You don't like me, do you, Misty?" she asked rhetorically, scratching the feline behind the ears.

Deciding after a pause that there was nothing better to do, she walked in and turned on the T.V. again. She flipped through the channels for a minute before deciding on the news; the cheerful voice of the female newscaster soon filled the small apartment.

"...And those are the sports statistics. Breaking news today, we've got a unusual story. The Vostok research station in Antarctica, site of the lowest temperature ever recorded on earth, has apparently **vanished** without a trace. The station was involved in an effort to drill an ice core through the approximately 3,700 meter sheet of ice in order to analyze it for information on climate changes for a whopping half million years. Our contact says that communication with Vostok Station stopped around yesterday and recent satellite photos confirm that it is **gone**. What happened? Well, we don't know. Find out more when we return. This is channel 3 news."

The perky blonde newscaster's face was replaced by a detergent commercial and Jenna flicked the T.V. off, stood up, and headed for bed. Something gave her the feeling it was going to be a busy day tomorrow.

----------------------  
In case my author's note in the last chapter had you confused about this, Trisha will not be falling in love with Maglor. Or, well, she might, but t'will be tragic, unreciprocated love. Alas for the poor girl. :( Also, sorry about freaking out. ::Sigh:: I just get a little panicky when I think one of my characters is turning into a Mary Sue. I just don't want this to turn into a Sue story, beep it!!!

...Sorry, panicking again. ::Deep breath:: More soon.


	8. Chapter 8

They were all watching each other: Maglor allowed Patricia to lead him along the beach, staying a few steps back and watching her closely; Karri was walking along behind him, staring at him with large brown eyes but pretending to be absorbed by her fingernails any time he returned the look. They were heading towards what looked like a city, but nothing like the human settlements in Beleriand. There were tall towers made of mirrors looming in the distance behind what looked like houses, each of which had a small patch of grass out in the front. Shortly after reaching the first of the houses they began walking down a beige and grey path that ran parallel to a smooth black gravel road, dotted here and there with yellow lines and lined with white paint. Trees sat neatly in the grassy area between the path and the road, throwing long shadows across the black gravel from the sinking rays of Arien. Somewhere to the right of them, the roar Maglor had noticed on the beach had grown louder; steady noise punctuated occasionally by a loud sputtering growl that grew louder and faded into the distance at great speed.

The air smelled horrible; smoke and acid mixed with something indescribable, forming a layer at the back of his throat that made him want to cough any time he inhaled. His eyes began to itch and then sting like someone was pressing an acidic cloth to the back of them, and combined with the constant noise and depressing thoughts he soon began to feel thoroughly miserable. Fortunately, Patricia and Karri seemed to know where they were going...

Suddenly, there was a noise in his ears reminiscent of the rushing famously heard in seashells and two points of light appeared at one end of the road. They were attached to a large metal _something_, painted brilliant white, that rushed along the road at a speed that rivaled the eagles of Manwë. Maglor stepped to the side and drew the dagger from his boot in one fluid movement, causing Karri to jump back in alarm. Patricia continued on obliviously for a second then turned around to see what was going on.

Maglor was staring at the car, knife held tightly in a defensive position and feet planted securely on the turf of the nearest house's lawn. Karri was several paces behind Maglor and hissing something about putting the knife down, and all the while the car approached with the speed of, er, a car. Trisha crossed her fingers and thanked Eru that the car would pass quickly, then began to approach Maglor.

She quickly thought better of it and motioned to him to put down the knife with the same gestures she had used before. He looked at her warily then complied.

The car whooshed past and Maglor's eyes followed the red lights until it turned onto a different street and was hidden behind a respectable looking brick house. The two níssi had seemed unafraid of the thing, and it hadn't harmed him, but it was alarming and far too loud... what was more, he had never even _imagined_ anything like it. How long had he been asleep? Their speech was completely different, their clothing was outlandish and the world was so different... It was frightening even to him, but he had decided there was nothing to do but accept it. As far as he knew it could be hundreds of thousands of years later, and angry outbursts wouldn't bring back Beleriand.

They continued to lead him down the same path until turning into a flat area made of the same material as the path. It led up to one of the houses; a beige brick one, with neatly trimmed grass and small flowering shrubs lining a path leading up to the door. A large window looked in to a cheerful yellow room bathed in steady fluorescent light from a fixture on the ceiling, and Maglor caught a glimpse of the trio palely reflected in the glass. They made such an odd group; Patricia leading, her sandy hair and heavy tread reminiscent of the people of Haleth; then the regal elf lord with his flawless posture and catlike grace. In the back was Karri, small and skittish with dark brown eyes and long dark hair; she was watching him again with the air of a small animal ready to run at any moment. It was getting tiring... did she have nothing better to do that sit around and gawk at him?

Trisha had opened the door and ushered the other two inside, where they stood contemplating each other for a minute or two. Karri glared at her friend. "Why did you do that?! How do you know your mom isn't going to call the police or something?" she demanded.

Trisha shrugged. "Dunno," she replied intelligently. "I'll take my chances though. Take Maglor to my room, I'm going to go get mom."

Karri couldn't help but giggle at 'Take Maglor to my room', and Trisha glared at her venomously. True to her word, however, she trudged through the cheerful yellow kitchen and down the stairs as the T.V. in the basement played soap opera dialogue loudly. Trisha vaulted over the couch onto the bouncy cushions as two middle-aged women yelled at each other.

"Mom?" she asked hesitantly, turning the T.V. volume down.

Her mother turned to look at her. "Hmm? How was the beach?" she asked, then paused. "What's wrong?"

Trisha shifted from side to side nervously. "Uhh, I think you have to see something," she replied. Her mom frowned.

"Okay then. See what?"

"Speaks for himself..." she muttered, standing up quickly and heading up the stairs while her mother followed uncomfortably.

()()()

Maglor had allowed the dark haired girl to lead him down a hallway into a lavender room furnished with a bed, a desk with many drawers and an armoire of some sort. On the desk was a grey box with black glass covering most of the front, and surrounding it were strange objects the use of which he couldn't even begin to guess. An uncomfortable looking chair was sitting in front of it, which he regarded with some suspicion before sitting on it. Karri had seated herself on the bed in the farthest corner from him and was watching him again, but underneath the fright he could now see something else; it reminded him strongly of Celegorm's expression when he had told Maglor about Lúthien.

It dawned on him shortly and the Elf turned away, repulsed. Foolish humans... He turned his attention to the black box and stared at it curiously; there was a rounded object about 3/4ths the size of his hand on a cloth that sat on the table, which he picked up and turned over. It began to emit a red glow, casting pinpricks of red light against the back of the desk and casting a shadow of his hand on the cloth. He replaced it quickly only to hear a loud 'doonk' from the black glass, which suddenly turned blue.

Maglor edged back only to find that the chair rolled along with him with a loud squeak, which evoked a giggle from Karri. Noticing his gaze, however, she suppressed the laughter and smiled at him innocently. "Computer," she said, pointing to the box.

He nodded slowly. "Computer."

"Chair." She pointed to the office chair, wondering how long it would be until Trisha got back.

Maglor frowned. "Ksare?" he repeated, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Kare... chair..."

That was when Trisha walked in. Karri frowned at her. "He can't say 'chair'?" she asked.

Trisha looked confused for a minute. "Er, huh? Wait," she paused. "Oh, no, he can't. There isn't a Quenya equivalent of ch. They say it like we say Loch. Don't worry; he'll pick it up soon. Mom's coming... I... oh Eru, what am I doing? She's not going to believe me! She's going to call the cops or something and how do I even know he's actually Maglor? He's supposed to have black hair! And Tolkien Elves have 'leaf shaped' ears whatever that means! How come he doesn't?!" she grimaced angrily and plopped down on her bed, shoving headphones over her ears. "I am NOT prepared to deal with this right now," she announced, pressing 'play' on her CD player and holding the earphones to her head to block out all sound but the music. Her eyes squeezed shut and Karri could hear faint music emanating from the earphones.

That was when her mother chose to arrive. Taking one look at Trisha, Karri and Maglor, she shut the door and backed against it. "Trisha, who is this?" she asked stoically.

"Blackheart show me... what you hold in hand... I still hunger for mooooore... releeeeease me from the paaaain! Give it to MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Trisha replied coherently.

Karri poked her friend. "TRISHA!" she yelled at the earphones, jabbing the aforementioned once more on the arm. "Trisha! Explain who Maglor is!"

"How I need it... How I neeeeeed it... **How I neeeeeeeeeed it!!!**"

Karri sighed then looked up. "Uhh, Mrs. Black... I believe you've heard of Maglor?"

------------------  
Stupid Karri!  
Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long, and sorry the chapter's so long. I'll try to make the next one a more reasonble size

Please review! If you do I shall be happy!


	9. Chapter 9

"Mike, are you sure this thing is safe?" Anthony Moore stared nervously out the window of the helicopter at the miles of shadowed, greenish ice stretching as far as the eye could see. He _thought_ he liked air travel, but that was before he had set foot inside a helicopter; all the corny action movies he had seen with exploding helicopters were playing over and over in his head, and the eeriness of their mission and the location weren't helping. He checked the safety of his gun for the umpteenth time and sighed.

There was a coarse laugh from the front. "I wouldn't have lasted long as a pilot if it wasn't, would I? Trust me, it'll be fine."

This reference to the pilot dying didn't help Anthony's mood much, and he clenched the side of the window with a death grip. Somewhere near the rear of the chopper, Ivan, one of his colleagues sat up. "Is it much farther?" he asked, his heavy accent rendering the words difficult for Anthony to understand.

"Nah... we'll be in sight soon, if there really is anything to sight. If the General is right, there won't be anything but polar bears and ice."

"There are no polar bears in..." began Anthony.

"I know." Mike cut him off, laughing. "Penguins, then."

"I don't think they come this far inland." Anthony retorted.

"Eskimos?"

"None of those, either. Try AT-ATs..."

"Too icy. Scuzzlebutt?"

"No volcano. What about..."

Ivan cleared his throat loudly and glared at them both. "Would you two please be quiet?" he asked, his tone indicating an order rather than a request; both complied, and Anthony returned to staring out the window at the clear, cold night. Suddenly he stiffened and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"Mike..."

Something in his tone startled the pilot, but before he could say anything Anthony continued. "Mike... what is that?"

That is a strange noise, like cutting the winds. Where is it coming from? ......... Oh, there it is, in the sky. It appears so heavy, yet it flies... how? No, that is of little import; I hunger still, so I shall not choose. Those things inside it, perhaps they are the followers. They are frightened... come, little beings. Come closer. Do not fear the darkness, brave ones. Do not fear the darkness...

The metal device made a sharp turn and tried to escape, but it was too late.

Somewhere to the left, a huge shape, darker than the arctic night, closed in on it with a speed at odds with its immense size. There was a terrible, ghastly silence, and black vapors filled the quiet air.

---------------

Terribly sorry it's so short and inconclusive; I just really wanted to get the Antarctica storyline going. I'll write something better later, hopefully...


	10. Chapter 10

The loud, annoyed buzzing of an alarm clock heralded the new day and Trisha's head rose, then dropped back onto her floral print pillow. She muttered something sleepily and switched the alarm clock off then rolled onto her back, willing herself back to sleep. Her mom would wake her up when it was time to...

Suddenly, she remembered why she had set her alarm. Her eyes flew open with a snap and she sat bolt upright, jumping out of bed and rubbing her eyes. She had forgotten about... her shoulders slumped and she looked around her room. It all seemed so... normal. Light filtering in through the two windows, discarded clothes and random bits of junk strewn around on the floor, desk, dresser, etc, a large yellow dog standing at the door... She patted her bed and Tompkins bounded up, nuzzling her shoulder and giving her face a few good licks.

Trisha placed her arm around the dog and her shoulders slumped. "Guess it was all a dream, eh Tomps?" she asked rhetorically; in answer, Tompkins whimpered and held his paw up, which Trisha took. "Aww, this is a very nice paw. Thank you." She sighed. "But what if it had happened, Tomps? What if I really had found Maglor? Ehehe, maybe it would be like fanfic and he would fall madly in love with me and we'd, er, get married and... That would be great..." She pouted and sank back onto the bed, and Tompkins scooted forward and licked her face. After several seconds there were footsteps in the hallway and her mom walked in.

"Well then, it's a school day, but at least your 'elf' didn't kill us in our sleep. What are you going to do about school? I won't let you pretend to be sick, just so you know."

Trisha's eyes widened to frightening proportions and she pinched herself furiously and yelped. "Ouch! That rules out dreaming. Y... er, you mean it really happened? Oh my Eru, Tompkins! It really happened!!" She grabbed the dog's muzzle and blew on it jubilantly. The yellow lab jerked back, startled, and jumped off the bed. "I _KNEW_ it!" she finished exuberantly.

"Of course it happened," continued her mom. "_It_ happened. You brought home some tramp you met on that freezing, rocky beach, dragged him home and SOMEHOW convinced your father and me to let him stay, all the while insisting he's the fictional son of some fictional elf. Why can't you just want a pony like normal girls your age?" she asked resignedly, idly tossing a candy bar wrapper into the already overflowing garbage can. Tompkins whined and stuck his nose in the garbage and snuffled around a bit, then sneezed loudly.

Trisha laughed. "That beach is cool! Anyway, who wants a pony when you could have an elf? Sewiously folks, they're perfect!" Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "Probably built like horses, too..." she speculated.

Her mother looked shocked. "Trisha!" she exclaimed, glaring at her daughter.

"What? Just an honest guess," Trisha shrugged and stood up, throwing on an oversized t-shirt over her camisole. "Anyway, I'll probably get the chance to find out."

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Penelope, placing her hands firmly on her hips and staring at Trisha. She giggled.

"Well, this obviously couldn't happen in real life. Therefore, that must mean one of two things: First, I could be dreaming. Unlikely," she added, rubbing the welt on her arm from where she had pinched herself. "Second, this is actually a piece of fan fiction. Any time an elf shows up and a teenage girl is the first to discover him, he's doomed to fall hopelessly in love with her. It's just the way these things work!" she finished brightly, then paused. "Then again, he usually knows perfect English already and is trusting of the heroine to a fault, and is usually Legolas..." she mused.

Her mother lowered her hands. "Just... get ready, will you?" It was a command, not a question; Trisha slipped on some shoes over her grey pajama pants and dragged her backpack into the kitchen. Maglor was sitting there gazing at her intensely, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

She dumped her backpack on the floor in front of her chair and then poured herself some cereal, eating it dry. "But really, mom, you didn't need to make him sleep outside! ...er, not that he slept anyway, but still. Weren't you afraid the neighbors would give you strange looks or something?"

"Well, I wasn't going to let him sleep in here," she stated matter-of-factly, and Trisha knew that it was pointless to argue.

She slumped into the chair and chewed a spoonful of cereal thoughtfully. Halfway through she coughed loudly and sat up. "I have an idea!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, swallowing the cereal hastily. "Mom, I know. All I have to do is get him to sing and you'll believe me. Elven minstrels... well... when Finrod encountered the first humans, he sang for them, and not only was it really pretty but they could literally like see visions of what was going on in the song! And they understood him. Or, some of them did. To a greater or lesser extent depending on how smart they are. Were. And then in Fellowship, Frodo meets the Elves who are singing and he could understand their song about Elbereth, and then when..."

"Trisha, that's enough," interjected her mother. "I get the idea. How do you propose to do it?"

"Er, maybe... uh... we... Oi! Dictionary!"

Maglor watched in silence as Trisha approached him, fighting the terrible urge to cower in front of him. He was so... intimidating... She winced and studied the dictionary, more to have something to do than because it was particularly difficult to navigate. After several seconds, she recovered her composure and looked up.

"Uh... Lirin? Lindo? I... uh, don't know which word it is. Lirin... Lindë? Sing?" she asked, not daring to watch his response.

"þing..." he repeated slowly, then glared at the refrigerator. He looked angry, bitter, sad...

Trisha felt a wave of pity for him and mentally kicked herself. "No; sing," said her mom; Trisha didn't reserve herself to mental kicking this time. Her mother rounded on her. "TRISHA!" she exclaimed, practically towering over her smaller daughter. Trisha squeaked an apology.

"Don't make him mad! Or disrespect him or whatev... uh... Er, mom, he's supposed to talk like that... His dad taught he and his brothers-"

"Him and his brothers," corrected Penelope. Trisha shrugged.

"Whatever. Anyway, Fëanor thought it was the right way to talk."

"Patricia Katherine Black, that is no reason to kick your mother. He doesn't even look offended. I am going to drive you to school now and you are going to go WITHOUT FUSS, and while you are there you are going to seriously think about how lucky you are that I'm putting up this well with this nonsense!" She grabbed her keys angrily and stalked towards the door, leaving nothing for Trisha to do but try and forget her disappointment and follow. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.


	11. Author's announcement version 3

I've pretty much caught up with the Trisha/Maglor story line so I'll be moving on with the plot now. It might go a bit more slowly considering I'll be trying harder to make it realistic, but I'll try to keep going.

Thank you very much for all the reviews! You guys are the only reason Antiquity's been going as long as it has... _Sniff_ Thank you! I love you all!

-Autumn/Andúwen


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